


Open Ear, Open Arms

by hollyhock13



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dick Grayson is a good big brother, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lead to much-needed conversations, Post-Canon, Post-Red Robin series, Pre-New 52, Sibling squabbles, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, or slightly better than angsty ending at least, we ignore the New 52 and Rebirth and we have fun doing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyhock13/pseuds/hollyhock13
Summary: Nothing that happened between them was intentionally hurtful, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 130
Collections: Batfam Christmas Stocking 2019





	Open Ear, Open Arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkQuill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkQuill/gifts).



> This was a Gen Batfam Christmas Stocking fill for the event over on Tumblr! I hope you like your gift <3
> 
> Next, the biggest issue I have with this part of canon and fanon is that people are so quick to blame one character or the other, as though they weren't both hurting. I really intend for this to be an exploration of how they both screwed up (it's almost certainly a little biased. I can admit that much!) without blaming either for everything that happened.
> 
> Some huge thanks to [@Ursapharoh15](%E2%80%9C) and @starwarmth on Tumblr for encouraging me and helping me make sure the story was where I wanted it!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

“Will you give this to Damian? Maybe tell him I’m sorry I borrowed it without asking?” Tim stands in Dick’s doorway, holding out a ball of fabric that must be whatever it is they were fighting about earlier. “I double checked, and it really isn’t mine.”

He tosses the object towards Dick, who catches it. He opens the balled-up thing to find a reproduction Flying Graysons shirt, size small—the same one he had gifted to the entire family last Christmas. It turned out, however, that in the unisex sizing offered by the website he bought them from, Tim, Cass, and Damian all wore the same size. Alfred had carefully inscribed an initial into the tag of each of their shirts to prevent fighting, but the two still end up arguing over them more often than not. Cass prefers to just wear whichever one she finds first, whether that is her own, Jason’s, Dick’s, Bruce’s…

“Wait, _this_ is what you two were fighting about? _Seriously_?” He looks up at the teen in his doorway, ready to start giggling. The expression on his brother’s face makes the laughter dry up in his throat. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

“Just give it to him,” Tim snaps, and turns away from the door.

“Hey, Tim, no. What’s wrong?”

“I screwed up and now your little brother gets to gloat. Does it really matter?”

“Of...course it does. You’re upset.”

“It’s not like that’s ever mattered to you before, why start now?” The sentence jabs right between Dick’s ribs. Tim seems to realize it, because he rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Listen, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”

“Sounds like we have something to talk about, yeah?”

“It’s really not a big deal.” But he doesn’t leave the doorway.

Dick pats the bed next to him. “For me?”

Tim sighs. “You know I’d do anything for you, and you take full advantage.”

“It’s a skill.” Dick smiles. He pats the space next to him again, and Tim caves, slinking into the room to flop face down on the bed. Dick gives him a few minutes to relax before prompting him. “So?”

“He hates me, and I’m not fond of him either. What’s there to talk about?’

“He doesn’t hate you.” The look he gets is not impressed. “He doesn’t...totally hate you.”

“Yeah, right.”

The two of them lapse into silence. Dick might think Tim is sleeping but for the minute tension running through his brother’s body. He runs his fingernails over Tim’s back in a way he usually finds relaxing. “What’s the real problem, Tim?”

“...where do you want to start? The fact that even when I’m trying to be the bigger person you think I’m being ridiculous? Or maybe with the fact that none of you even _trust_ me anymore?”

Dick’s attempt at a teasing smile disappears in an instant. “Woah, woah, woah, what? Who doesn’t trust you?”

“Oh, didn’t you get the memo? Or, you would have written it, wouldn’t you.”

“Tim, I love you and I have to ask: what in the _WORLD_ are you talking about?”

“Oh, quit lying. I thought we’d already made it clear that you don’t trust my judgement in the field or personally. No need for pretenses anymore.” Dick rolls over to look at his little brother, but Tim stays firmly facing away from him.

“What are you talking about? I trust your judgement; I told you we were equals when everything went down. Everything with Dami and Robin and, and Bruce.”

Tim’s shoulders tighten with every word. “That’s just it, isn’t it?” He chuckles coldly. “You said it, over and over again. But when it came down to it, you didn’t. You told me I was wrong, that I was grieving. That I was—” his voice breaks, but he swallows and continues “—that I was inventing evidence to suit my theory instead of basing my theory on evidence. That doesn’t feel like trust.”

Dick snaps his jaw shut. “You’re right,” he says softly.

“And besides that—What?”

“You’re right. If I’d really trusted you as an equal, I would have involved you in everything. Told you that I thought Dami needed Robin, offered to help you create a new role, or even offered up Nightwing.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“No? Well, clearly I needed to do something different if you’re still hurting. But I didn’t. I screwed up, didn’t I?”

Tim’s shoulders fold in. “You know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that?”

“No, but I’d guess it’s longer than you’d like. Did it help?”

“Not as much as I thought it would. But…”

“But?” Dick prompts.

“You weren’t wrong.”

“You’re kidding. You brought Bruce back after being lost in time. You were right, he wasn’t dead and he definitely needed help.” He plays with the long strands at the back of Tim’s head, tries not to wince at the feeling of the burn scars there. Just another way they’ve all failed his little brother, now. Add it to the list.

A wet laugh bubbles up from Tim’s mouth, and Dick isn’t entirely sure he likes the sound. “No, I had no evidence. It was wishful thinking that somehow managed to be true. And...you were right about Damian, too.”

The words are painful to hear, and must be much more so for Tim to speak. “That doesn’t mean I did it right.”

Another laugh, this one something more like a sob. Dick tentatively wraps an arm over Tim’s thin shoulders. “I needed it, Dick. I know Damian needed it too, now, but I didn’t have anything else. You took the last vestiges of my life and leveled them in one fell swoop.”

Dick pulls his brother backward until he can hold his back to his own chest. “I didn’t mean to,” he whispers.

“But you did. You took it all, Robin, the Titans...my big brother. All gone, and nowhere to turn.”

“I was right there, Tim. All you had to do was look.”

Tim turns in his hold to face him and give him the most scathing look he’s experienced outside of Bruce and Alfred. “You told me I couldn’t trust my own brain, Dick. You destroyed my credibility in the JLA, you sided with the kid who tried to murder me  _ more than once _ and gave him my place, my name, my legacy without so much as a heads up. Forgive me for assuming you had moved on to the next model.”

Dick starts to protest, “That’s not how family works—”

“Isn’t it? That’s how this family works. Jason died, and I came up. Bruce dies and suddenly you’re Batman, Damian’s Robin and I’m back to being nothing. That’s how it worked with Dad, Mom died and then Dana was there like nothing had ever happened.” His steady gaze finally flicks away. “That’s how family works for me.”

“Oh,  _ Tim _ .”

“I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your fake comfort, I don’t want your lies and platitudes. I’m a lot of things, Dick, but I’m not  _ stupid _ .”

“I never said you were. This is something I need you to understand, okay? I love you, and I am so so sorry for  _ anything _ I may have done to make you disbelieve that.”

Tim releases a shuddering breath, and Dick’s not quite sure how he missed that he was holding it. He tugs his little brother even closer. “I didn’t really mean that,” Tim mutters against Dick’s shoulder. “Most of it, at least. And what I did mean was out of line. I’m sorry.”

“I think we both needed to hear it. To be clear, I am sorry about how all of this went down. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but that doesn’t change that I did.”

“I know that. Now.”

“Good. But, maybe next time you can tell me when it happens instead of months later?”

Tim huffs out a laugh. “I guess that’s a fair request.”

“I’m glad you think so. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For telling me.”

“Oh. You’re welcome, I guess?”

His little brother and his inclination to acquiesce. Dick tugs him closer once more until they’re in what Jason so affectionately calls Dick’s octopus hug. Maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s better. And now that he knows, he can try to be better for his little brother. Yeah. Progress.


End file.
